


On Christmas You Tell The Truth

by talula



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Christmas, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, M/M, bottom!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talula/pseuds/talula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles makes an excuse to go to Derek's on Christmas Day. They talk about their lost family members and Derek lets out some guilt, then it gets dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in one day on my iPhone. Unbetaed. More grief-fluff. I continue to apologize. I got through Christmas with my family by remembering that Derek accepted Peter back into the fold, then I wrote this in my head while I ignored them.
> 
> http://stargirl776.tumblr.com/

Stiles is sprawled on the couch, stomach full, Dad in the recliner, falling asleep while 'A Christmas Carol' plays on tv. Stiles gets an idle ping in his supernatural radar, wonders if alternate universes are real. 

Maybe there's another universe where Scott never got turned. Maybe there's a Lydia somewhere that is actually going out with Stiles. Maybe there's a universe where Jackson was raised by his own parents and is less of an asshole. 

Maybe there's a universe where Stiles and his dad are having Christmas with his mom. 

It's that thought that gets Stiles squirming, readjusting on the couch several times until he pulls up a search box on his phone and does a search for 'alternate universes.' When the first result is for a gaming site, and the next one for Wikipedia, Stiles remembers why it's frustrating to try to find true stuff on the internet and automatically opens the text box to Derek. 

He hesitates, thinks about how he shouldn't bother him on Christmas Day, then thinks, that's silly, Derek doesn't have anyone to spend Christmas with, then thinks, dammit, Derek doesn't have anyone to spend Christmas with. That thought actually makes him sit up, shake his leg nervously for almost a full minute, then says, "Hey dad, I'm going out for a minute, you know, Christmas drive, be back soon. Just, you know-"

"Bring him a plate of food," John says, without opening his eyes fully. 

Stiles pauses, thinks about acting innocent, like they both don't know where he's going, but instead just goes into the kitchen and heaps leftovers onto a plate before he goes. 

He stands outside Derek's holding the plate for what feels like forever, too nervous to knock and too smart to know he could turn back undetected. Since Derek had gotten back, things had been different. He came back without Cora, and without much of an explanation. He had been quiet, not showing up at school with cryptic messages, or in dark alleys fighting evil, or behind Stiles' bedroom door asking for refuge. 

Silence unnerves Stiles more than anything, so he had started seeking Derek out, stopping by after Lacrosse practice, giving a twenty minute diatribe about how much he hates the twin dating Lydia, sending him pictures of old werewolf movie stills he finds on the internet, texting him questions about supernatural stuff, and apparently spontaneously bringing him Christmas dinner. 

When the door flies open, Stiles jumps, just about drops the plate, and yells "Holy bajingles!" 

Derek looks like he's trying very hard to not smile, so Stiles takes his humiliation in stride. Derek raises his eyebrows at the food, Stiles nods, and Derek steps aside.

Stiles very quickly takes in the fact that no one else is there, and if Stiles hadn't followed his crazy thought train starting at Tiny Tim, Derek would have spent Christmas alone. Then Stiles thinks about the possible alternate universe where Derek is spending Christmas with tons of family instead of a empty loft by himself. 

Derek looks up questioningly from eating ham with his fingers, and Stiles tried to distract himself from the thoughts, figuring Derek might be smelling sadness, or sympathy, or whatever. 

Derek goes back to eating, standing in the kitchen, plate resting on the counter. Stiles sits in one of the kitchen chairs, gets restless in less than thirty seconds, starts drumming his fingers against his knee and making beat noises with his mouth. After another, different look from Derek, he abruptly stops doing those things. 

Suddenly realizing the only words they've exchanged have been 'holy bajingles,' Stiles wants to say something else. He tries a few times, opening his mouth and then closing, because all he can think of saying is 'what's a bajingle anyway?' Even though he was the one who said it in the first place.

"What is it?" Derek asks. 

For a second Stiles is scared Derek can read his mind and is asking him what a bajingle is, when he catches up.

"What's what?"

Derek raises another eyebrow. "Whatever you came over here to ask me." He puts the foil back over the rest of the food on the plate and puts it on the refrigerator. 

"Right!" Stiles says, just remembering he actually did have something he could say. "Right." All of a sudden it sounds really stupid to ask about alternate universes. Sure, he had busted in here two weeks ago after lacrosse, took a bag of pretzels without asking and launched into a reenactment of the day long debate he and Scott had about if leprechauns were real, but suddenly things were different.

Stiles suddenly becomes acutely aware that they are the only two living breathing bodies in the large, mostly dim light of a big loft, and it's Christmas, and Stiles had ended up here. The day you're supposed to spend with your closest friends and family, and at the end of the day, to apparently no one else's surprise, he is alone in Derek's place, and Derek was alone before he got there. 

Derek leans against the counter, then pushes off, a small scowl of frustration forming between his eyes. "Look, Isaac was here earlier, even gave me a present, so you can stop with all the pity emotions."

Stiles thinks: goddamit, I should have brought a present! And: good, Isaac was here, he wasn't alone all day And: dear lord, he can read my mind.

His brain catches all those things before they come tumbling out and instead says, "It's not pity. It's just, it's a shitty time of year, for a lot of people, even me sometimes."

Derek doesn't say anything, just stands there, as if he's waiting for Stiles to say more.

"Look, I was just..." and then he feels like an ass, doesn't want to say that he just wanted to ask him a question, or else he wouldn't have even thought of him. Which is not entirely true anyway, he's been thinking of Derek more than anyone else lately, thinking up excuses to text him, coming up with things that he could use as a reason to bust through his door after school. He didn't know what it was between them, but it was more than a random question and he didn't feel like lying on Christmas, even to himself.

"I had just been thinking about how different this day might have been for both of us if our families were... If things were different...if alternate universes were real and there's one where none of them died."

Derek's face is unreadable, and Stiles kind of hates him for that. He looks down, feels stupid for spilling his guts like that, actually saying something important, thinks this whole idea, this whole whatever thing has been happening with Derek must certainly be in his head. He thinks about how he can leave without further embarrassment. Hell, maybe Derek wouldn't even notice.

"My Dad would have been cooking all day." Stiles almost jumps again, he's so surprised when Derek speaks. "My Mom was all for the decorating and games and traditions, and my Dad did all the cooking." Derek walks into the living room, so Stiles follows. He opens a closet, pulls out a large glass jar, empty. "All through the year, Mom would put notes in here, anyone could, but mostly Mom did, and Christmas morning, she'd read them all. It was always the good stuff that happened, like people getting married, jobs. Little things too though, like Laura finally making a pancake that wasn't burnt." 

His face is almost in a smile, a fond remembrance, and then it falls suddenly. He puts the jar back in the closet, keeps turned away from Stiles. "Anyway, that's what I remember most, because Laura insisted we keep that stupid jar no matter where we went. We never used it, never put a note or anything in it, but Laura said one day we might. I hated it. For years I'd imagine my dead mother pulling a note out and reading,'This year Derek met a girl that burnt us all alive. Thanks Derek.'"

Stiles doesn't know what to do, what to say. As much as he knows the rough sketch of what's happened in Derek's life, he never thought he'd hear any of the details, certainly not from Derek himself and certainly not with the honest edge of pain under his words. 

Derek seems to realize just how much he's given away and gets a little fidgety. Stiles smiles a little, because he's never seen Derek fidgety and nervous, and is grateful he'd let him see that too.

Stiles is the first to move, sitting down on the couch. "My Mom was big into the music part of Christmas. Played the piano while singing songs, dragged us twenty miles to see the Nutcracker every year. Always sang 'Oh, Christmas Tree' while we decorated the tree. I think it's the reason we got a pre-lit one a few years back. Less to decorate, less time to think about it."

Derek sits on the couch too, and they're both quiet for a minute. 

"So, what do you think?" Stiles says.

"About what?"

"Do you think alternate universes are real? Think there's one where we're doing those things?"

Derek sighs, leans back against the couch, "No, I think there is no universe where you have the ability to sit through an entire performance of the Nutcracker."

Stiles shoves him by the shoulder and they both laugh, and it seems to break the tension. 

Stiles says "You look nice when you smile," then blushes hard, but doesn't turn away. 

Derek looks down first, rubs his hands down the front of his jeans, like they've gotten sweaty. "Do you want to know my big secret?" 

"If it's about running naked on the full moon, dude, all the werewolves do it, and I myself even tried it, but only once. I don't understand how you guys can avoid the branches getting scratchy with sensitive-"

"Laura asked me to go with her," Derek cuts Stiles off.

"Go with her where?"

"Here. When she came here. She asked me if I would be willing to come with her, because whatever she felt was major, and strong, and she had a bad feeling." 

Stiles reaches a hand over and rests it on Derek's arm. "Everyone gets bad feelings. We can't just drop everything when someone gets a-"

Derek cuts him off again."She said she was scared she was going to die. Said that specifically. I can still hear her voice saying it. But Laura, ever since the fire, she got panic attacks, got worried about crazy shit sometimes that didn't even make any sense. So I blew her off. I said it was just her anxiety and she would be fine."

Stiles tightens his hands. "Derek, you couldn't have known. You were trying to comfort her."

Derek closes his eyes, Stiles realizes he's fighting back tears "Thats the worst part." His voice has gotten shaky, he puts his hand over his face, flat, like he could hide behind it. Stiles rearranges himself, puts one hand behind Derek's neck, and the other one grasping his free hand. "She was comforted. She said I was probably right. Then she left, and she died." 

Stiles pulls Derek's hand down and he looks wrecked, his eyes searching Stiles' face. "You don't have to hide from me." Stiles says softly, evenly. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I told her she wasn't going to die, and then she did, and it's the biggest 'I told you so' in history because I was so wrong, she isn't even alive to tell me 'I told you so.' And I have to live with that, for the rest of my life. The rest of my life that I get to live and she doesn't, because I was wrong."

Stiles pulls Derek against him, holds him tight and surprisingly, Derek lets him. 

"Derek, you couldn't have known. You couldn't have known. I can't believe you've been holding this in all this time. Have you even told this to anyone else?"

Derek leans back enough to wipe his face and shake his head 'no.'

"Well, let me be the representative for the rest of the world and tell you that no one would blame you. Hey, have you ever thought of blaming the person that actually did do it? No, we just let him back into the gang don't we?" Derek doesn't respond and Stiles huffs in annoyance. "God, you actually blame yourself more than you blame Peter, don't you?" Stiles gets up off the couch, paces a little in front of it.

Derek nods.

Stiles throws up his hands. "It figures I would fall in love with the most infuriating guilt ridden illogical man I could find."

Derek starts to say, "Hey, I'm not ill- Wait, what did you just say?"

"Yes! You are illogical. You didn't want your sister to die! Not being able to predict the future doesn't make you responsible for everything bad that happens!" 

Derek stands up, puts a hand flat on Stiles' chest to stop him from pacing. "No, what you said before that." 

Stiles still looks confused, "I said- oh." He freezes, realization dawning. "Well crap, I guess I did say that."

Derek backs him up against the wall, slowly, carefully, but with a hint of anger behind it. "Stiles, you have to tell me if you're messing with me right now."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh sure, I make all my fake love declarations right after tearful guilt confessions. I'm just that much of an asshole."

The anger melts off Derek, and his face transforms into a smile. "Ok then," Derek's nose nudges against Stiles', a breath shared before he continues, "tell me if you want me to stop," and leans in to kiss him. 

Stiles' head is spinning, but he only hesitates a second before kissing Derek back. Stiles thought kissing Derek would be all hard edges and fangs. But his lips are soft, so smooth and warm and just so soft. He hears a moan come up his throat and doesn't stop it, Derek inhales sharply in response and pushes their bodies closer. Stiles opens his legs slightly, letting a hard thigh slot in perfectly.

"You want me?" Derek asks between kisses, quietly, with a hint of fear and vulnerability underneath. "Do you really want me? Even after hearing about-."

"Oh my god!" Stiles whisper-yells, grabbing the sides of Derek's face, keeping their mouths close. "Yes, I want you. Even the stupid part of you so shut up and kiss me."

Derek smiles, Stiles can feel it, and pushes back in harder, the kisses rougher, biting Stiles' bottom lip, pushing against him with his hips. Derek shifts, and all of a sudden Stiles can feel his hard length rubbing against him, right next to his own. 

"Oh my god Derek, is that your-" and then his brain starts short circuiting because Derek pulls his mouth away and latches onto Stiles' neck, and he's moaning, making the most amazing sounds he's ever heard from a person.

"Stiles, I want you so bad. Fuck. You feel so good."

Stiles leans his head back, hits the wall behind him and lets his eyes roll back into his head, because his life is just not this awesome and then Derek shouts "Fuck!" louder and is shuddering against Stiles and he's too shocked to do anything as Derek ruts a few more times, then stops, breathless. His head is still buried in Stiles' neck and it stays there too long, like he might be embarrassed. 

"Holy Shit, Derek, did I just make you come in your pants? Because not even in my wildest fantasies did anything that awe-"

Stiles gets cut off by Derek shaking softly with laughter, whipping his head around to kiss him deeply, then saying "Hey, you can tell me about your wildest fantasies later. Right now I need you to fuck me." Then he pushes off of the wall, turns, walks down the hallway while pulling his shirt off. 

Stiles stands frozen for a moment. "Well, that'd be one of them," he says quietly to himself before following.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation. Pure porn.

Derek's in the bedroom, pulling his jeans off when he hears Stiles enter the room. He looks over his shoulder, sees Stiles watching his ass, his eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Derek feels his mouth crack a smile, dangerously close to feeling too good. He's seen people stare at his ass before, slept with people who told him he was amazing and beautiful and perfect. But none of them had known him. None of them had known all about his secrets and regrets about losing his family. None of them had seen him stumble around trying to be an alpha, failing everyone. No one had ever known all that, and still wanted him. 

Derek turns around fully, and Stiles' eyes shoot up to Derek's face, like he's avoiding looking. He can smell the straight line of anxiety come up under his arousal.

"Um, look, you should probably know I've never done this before. So, you know... Uh" His voice trails off as his eyes finally travel down to look at his cock, which is already half hard again. "Wow. I feel like I'm in a porn movie but no one gave me a script."

"Stiles. Just relax. Come here." 

Stiles makes his way across the distance of the floor. When he reaches Derek he starts pulling on his hoodie. "Why do you wear so many layers?" 

Stiles huffs a laugh. "I've never regretted it until today," and helps pull his remaining two shirts off. 

When Derek's hands slide down and pops the button on Stiles' jeans, he feels his heart rate pick up even more.

"Stiles, I meant it earlier. Tell me if you want me to stop." Stiles doesn't say anything, just leans forward, gives Derek a small kiss, closes his eyes. "Stiles, I need you to tell me. Do you want this?"

"God, is this a self- esteem thing? How many times do I have to say it? Yes, I want you. I want this."

Derek actually laughs in relief. "No, you idiot, it's a consent thing. Plus. You're still underage, so it's even more..."

"You're gonna feel like shit when I tell you this, but if you get back to the business of taking my pants off, I'll forgive you. I turned eighteen last month. There's this thing where when time goes on, we get older and-"

Derek cuts him off with a deep kiss and both hands focusing on getting his zipper down and pushing his pants off. With their mouths pressed together, Derek says, "Get these off, get in bed." 

He makes a quick movement to grab a bottle out of the nightstand, throws it to Stiles, who catches it just as he kicks his pants off. Derek lays on the bed, on his stomach, and spreads his legs.

Stiles slowly kneels behind him, the bed shifting, looks at the bottle, eyes wide. "I have mentioned I've never done this before, right?"

"Just put some on your fingers and touch me."

He hears the bottle open, smells the plasticy smell of the lube and then feels slick fingers drag across his hole. They both gasp at the same time. 

Derek buries his head in the pillow and moans when he does it again. But he needs more. "Stiles, please, you can't hurt me." 

And that's a lie, the biggest lie he's ever told. Stiles could break him, split him apart and leave him wrecked like nothing else. It's why he kept the facade up of annoyance for years, it's why he left, it's why he's stayed quiet. But it's also why he came back, why he allowed Stiles to sneak in slowly to fit in the corners of his life. When he started showing up, when he started texting, he thought maybe he felt some of the same. Maybe.

He feels Stiles take a deep breath and push a finger in, slowly, smoothly, all the way. Derek moans, pushes back. "Stiles, oh god, that feels... more. Please. More."

Stiles pulls his finger back, pushes it back in. The next time, he adds a second finger. Derek feels a burn, a stretch, it's been so long. But it feels so good he can't help but arch his back, leaning into his fingers. He realizes Stiles is mumbling and makes himself focus to listen. He's saying "...soft here too, god Derek, you're so soft, I didn't know, you're soft here too..." He's still being gentle, pulling and pushing slowly, "God Derek, I had no idea this would feel so... can I add another one... can you turn over... want to see you..."

"Yeah, hold on."

He pulls away from Stiles' fingers and they slide out. Stiles looks dazed, a little surprised, like maybe he didn't realize he was saying that all out loud. 

Derek turns over, putting a leg on either side of Stiles and scooting down, dragging his knees up. Stiles looks up from where he's adding a little more lube to his fingers and sees Derek spread out. "Jesus Christ Derek, you're beautiful. You have no idea how amazing you look right now. God, I can't believe I get to touch you." Then he's leaning in, kissing him, while his fingers scramble, push in again, all three at once. Derek breaks the kiss to gasp.

"Fuck, Derek, I'm sorry! Is it... does it hurt?"

Derek puts a hand quickly on Stiles' arm, stops the movement it was making to back out. "No, it feels amazing. Don't stop." He kisses him again, pushes his arm slightly, so his fingers go a little deeper, and they both moan. "Don't stop until you're ready to put your cock in there."

Stiles pushes in a few more times with his fingers, kisses him deeply in time. "Derek, are you ready? Please god, say you're ready. I can't..."

Derek leans to the side enough to grab the bottle, pours some in his hand, finds Stiles' dick between them and coats him, slicking him quickly between his tight fist.

Stiles tightens all over, his fingers pulling out. "Derek! Stop! God, I'm going to-"

"Not yet," Derek whispers, breathless, but stern. He twists more, guiding Stiles right to his hole. "You can't come, not until you're-" Stiles pushes at the same time Derek drops his hips and he presses inside in one smooth motion. 

Stiles makes a sound like a high pitch squeak, grabs onto Derek's shoulders like his life depends on it. Derek feels a growl come up from deep inside of him, and wraps his legs around Stiles' waist. Stiles has his eyes closed, head leaning against Derek's forehead and breathing so hard he's on the verge of gasping for breath. 

"Stiles, you need to breath." But he doesn't seem to hear him, just pushes his hips in harder and lets out a soft whine. "Stiles."

"I can't," Stiles says and starts pulling out, only a little before pushing back in. "Derek, god, Derek, I can't." He catches his mouth in a kiss, but only for a second, before pulling away and canting his hips again. "I can't, oh my god."

Derek puts a hand on his face and Stiles calms a little, eyes softly focusing on Derek's face. "Stiles, just fuck me." 

That seems to snap something in him. Stiles slaps a hand on the headboard and pulls out, almost all the way, before pushing back in, again and again, harder and faster each time. 

"Fuck," Derek says, almost under his breath, "Stiles, Stiles,Stiles," and he wants to say more, wants to tell him how amazing he is, how good he feels inside of him, how this means everything to him, but he can't. Can only focus on the feeling of him sliding in and out, the deep pressure when their hips meet and shoots pleasure up his whole body. 

He gasps when he feels Stiles move his free hand to circle around his cock. "Come with me, Derek, please, oh my god, I need to feel you come with me."

It only takes three more strokes and Derek is coming, hands grabbing at Stiles' sides. 

Stiles slams into Derek, once, twice more and then holds still, hard and deep inside of him while his orgasm shakes through him. 

Stiles pulls out gently, arms shaking, then all but collapses on top of Derek, nuzzling his face into neck. They both stay still for a minute, deep breaths between them slowing and calming. 

"That did not just happen to me," Stiles says, voice muffled.

Derek laughs, and dammit, he's dangerously close to being happy. He nudges at Stiles, who rolls off of him, spreads out on the bed, sighs loudly and says, "That was awesome. Super awesome. I may have to invent a new word to describe just how awesome that was."

Derek just smiles, wipes him with some tissues, gets the worst of it, thinks about convincing Stiles to take a shower with him later. Considers how amazing he would look wet, gasping, scrambling to get some sort of hold on the slick shower wall while Derek rims him. 

He tosses the tissues in the trash, goes to the kitchen quickly and gets them two mugs full of water.

Stiles sits up as he takes the water, drinking it in large gulps. He holds the mug up with a questioning look, reading the side and Derek realizes what mug he gave him.

"Does this say World's Greatest Alpha?"

"Yeah," Derek says, waiting for Stiles to laugh. "It's what Isaac gave me for Christmas."

But he doesn't laugh, just puts the mug down on the nightstand, scoots back down in the bed, smiles. "That's pretty much the best Christmas present, huh?"

Derek puts his mug down too, arranges himself on the bed next to Stiles and pulls him into a snuggle. "Almost the best," he says kissing the top of his head.

"Oh geez. You're a closet sap, aren't you? This is going to be the sappiest relationship ever, isn't it? And no one will ever believe me."

Derek doesn't answer, pulls Stiles in a little closer until they both settle. Stiles' head is on his chest and he can feel the soft breaths move across his skin. He stops Stiles' hand from where it was rubbing slow circles on his stomach and links their fingers together. For a moment, Derek lets himself feel happy. For the first time, it doesn't feel dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is my first attempt at writing something this dirty. 
> 
> Also, I have no idea how old Stiles is supposed to be at this point in the timeline, but I mean, he shouldn't be 16 anymore, right? 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading my story!


End file.
